She sat next to me on the bench to the table I had decided was going to be my lunch spot for the rest of the semester. My memory of sitting here with Mason the day before had pretty much cemented that decision—even if sitting with him was going to get me flunked from my English class. It was as if we’d christened it as ours.
It actually kind of felt like a betrayal to sit here with Eva instead of him.
But I suspected she was hanging around me so much today in the hopes I’d be granted another “gigolo-sighting,” as she was calling it.
“I’m not piercing my nose. Are you insane?”
“But they’d look so cute.” She stole one of my fries and decidedly stated, “I saw Alec checking out a girl wearing one yesterday. So, yeah, we’re getting them.”
I snorted. “If you want to go poking holes in strange places on your body just to impress your wandering-eye boyfriend, be my guest. But I will not be getting one with you.”
She merely sent me a cool smile and shrugged. “We’ll see. Oh, by the way, Mom and Dad are taking off early next Friday to spend Labor Day weekend at our beach house. They won’t be back until late Monday night. I’m thinking…party at my place, Friday.”
“Beach house? I had no idea you guys had a beach house. Oh, my God, why aren’t you going with them?”
Eva yawned as she flipped open her pink and black tiger-striped planner with a matching fuzzy pen. “Um…because I’m not ten. How lame would it be to spend Labor Day weekend with the rents? Seriously, ReeRee. I have so much to teach you.”
If my parents had a beach house, I’d be there every weekend. I don’t care how lame spending time with them might look. But this was Eva we were talking about. So I just shrugged. “Well, I can’t make it on any Friday. I have to babysit.”
Eva scowled. “Who? The gigolo’s retarded sister?”
I sent her a glare to kill. “Her name is Sarah. And yes, I’m talking about Mason’s special needs sister. Don’t ever call her retarded in that derogatory way again.”
With a roll of her eyes, she relented. “Okay, fine. How about Saturday night? Are you babysitting any freaks then?”
I ignored the bash against my little buddy by gritting my teeth and dipping one of my fries into a vat of nacho cheese. “Just how big of a party are we talking here?”
Ever since Jeremy, I had soured to huge gatherings full of too many strangers.
But Eva brightened. “Epic.” Then she spotted a group of guys passing our table. “Hey, boys. Party at my place. The Saturday of Labor Day weekend. You in?”
They grinned and gave her the thumbs up. “An Eva Mercer party? Oh, we are in.”
“Great. See you then.” She turned back to me, looking smug.
I blew out a lungful of irritation. “I guess we’ll be throwing a party, then. And now I know why my mom was so worried you might become a bad influence.”
“Oh, let’s not call it a bad influence.” She slung an arm over my shoulder and grinned. “Let’s call it bringing a little color into your life.”
Behind us, someone snorted. “Only you would call it that, Mercer.”
The breath whooshed from my lungs as the owner of that voice rounded the table to sit across from us.
Mason.
Damn, he looked good today, all fresh and friendly with a charcoal gray v-neck that made his eyes look lighter than usual. He grinned at me and promptly scoped out what I was eating.
“Ooh, chili cheese fries. Good choice. Better than the rabbit food you had yesterday.” He stole one off my plate and popped it into his mouth.
“Well, look who’s come to visit Miss Deluded,” I snarked back, hiding my intense reaction of all things excitable to his presence. “Do you ever eat your own food? Or do you just get a perverse pleasure out of eating mine?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” He sent me a grin full of promise and hidden meaning. I fell into a mini trance, watching his lips purse and move as he chewed. Then my attention fell to his tanned throat as he swallowed.
Seriously. Eating a chili cheese fry should not look that sinful.
“Umm. Can we help you? Mason?” Eva asked pointedly, glaring daggers at him.
He sent her a strained smile. “Nope. Just eating my lunch.”
“My lunch,” I cut in right before he pulled a plastic-wrapped sub sandwich from his bag. He waved it tauntingly, letting me know he had brought his own food.
I scowled back because, really, I hated being bested.
Watching him unwrap his meal and take a bite, Eva muttered, “Do you seriously have to eat here? With us?”
“Eva!” I gasped. What was her deal? Earlier in Brit Lit, she’d acted as if being in his presence was the bomb. Now, she was just…a bitch.
“Jesus, Mercer.” Mason scowled as he lowered the hoagie. “I’m not contagious.”
“Are you sure about that? I mean, who knows what kind of nasty STD—”
“Okay, okay, okay,” I broke in, lifting my hands and waving them in the universal white-flag gesture. “I’m sensing a disturbance in the Force between you two. Is there some kind of history here I’m not aware of?” Then I gasped. “Oh, my God. You two have slept together. Haven’t you?”